


all the king's men.

by cl3rks



Series: a hole in the ground, a flower on the grave [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Good old fashioned jealousy, Gunplay, Jealousy, Kissing, Making Out, Musket - Freeform, Possible Masturbation, Reader has hinted at secrets, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sexual Content, Singing, Swordfighting, Swordplay, The king and the cardinal know her secrets, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, i mean hell it was back then of course it wasnt safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The musketeers much watch over the king's close cousin; you. </p>
<p>Or, alternatively, not only has the king sent for you but in some regards so has the cardinal. This isn't the only way you've caught the attention of Aramis, but it's two of a few and you're not keen on making anything easy on him -- or anyone, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. protector.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to trash hell ! the title may change idk also that summary SUCKS sorry about this lame ass note too oh my god the second note is much better! hope you enjoy!

“You truly are beautiful-”

_“No.”_

“Why on earth not? If I'm to protect you, the least I can do is have a little fun.”

The woman before Aramis rolled her eyes, the look on her face dangerously exasperated by his failed attempts. “I don't need protection – especially from the likes of a musketeer.”

“Something against musketeers, my lady?” Aramis frowned slightly, politely jesting at her words. “I, for one, think we're wonderful.”

“You musketeers draw trouble wherever you go.” She sighed softly, stirring the wine within her half empty glass with her left index finger. “You don't even try, you musketeers, it just happens.” 

“On the contrary, mon chéri.” Aramis grinned easily, the gesture reaching his eyes as he watched the woman. “The musketeers – that you so often refer to us as, you sure say that a lot, by the way – have a job to do, especially when it involves a close cousin of the king.”

“So what?” She frowned deeper, her eyes flickering over his before going past his shoulders to find the backs of Athos and Porthos; that D'Artagnan kid beside Athos as they shared short stories. “I can protect myself. I took lessons when I was young.”

“For what, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Sword fighting.” 

This amused Aramis. The woman could tell by the snort that he tried to hold back. “Oh, really, [Y/N]?”

She sighed softly once more, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Aramis.” 

“I'd love to see that.” He told her, tilting his head slightly. 

“You likely never will.” [Y/N] replied, a tight smile forming on her lips. “I'm out of practice and besides, I couldn't fight in this _damned_ dress anyway.” 

“I can help you out of it, if you'd like?” Aramis offered, his grin had formed into his trademark smirk, his eyes warm and filled with lust as he watched her draw her finger from her glass and carefully lick the dripping red liquid from her skin.

“I'd really rather not. But Porthos, if he offered...” She trailed off, causing the smirk to fall on Aramis' face as she looked over his shoulder to see Porthos turn around momentarily, his eyebrow raised as he watched the cousin of the king amorously wave in his direction. 

Aramis glanced over his shoulder as Porthos smiled at [Y/N] only to be greeted by a scowl from his fellow musketeer as he glanced in Aramis' direction. She turned back to Aramis, locking eyes with him and standing quickly before purposely walking around the table to gently seat herself on the man's lap.

“It takes a special man,” She purred, bringing her hand up to gently run her fingers over the side of his jaw, brushing across the hair there before tucking a curl behind his ear as he watched her quizzically. Her mood changed quickly – she was teasing him, no doubt about it. He figured she was far more skilled at using her womanly ways as a weapon than a sword or gun. “To please me.”

“And that man is Porthos?” Aramis questioned, leaning his head back slightly to look at the woman sitting on his lap – he wasn't the only one, however. Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan had also caught the scene near them. “Or so you say?”

“Mm, Porthos – Athos, maybe.” [Y/N] sighed, shrugging slightly. “But not D'Artagnan, no – he has other priorities.” 

The look casted on Aramis' face was dark. “Is that so?”

“A strong man is all I need, _mon chéri.”_ The subtle purr was inflicting her tone heavily, and the musketeer beneath her felt the urge to shift before she realized what she was doing to him. She leaned closer to him, her warm breath hitting his lips and chin, it caused him to wrinkle his nose slightly. “Are you strong, Aramis?”

He felt her fingers smooth over his cheekbone, her other hand trailing up to his collarbone as one of his hands found her hip as the other settled onto her knee. “Be careful, [Y/N], you never know who's watching.”

“You didn't answer my question.” [Y/N] reminded, the soft pads of her fingers brushing his skin were replaced by the curved and sharp edges of her fingernails. It almost made him shiver, what she was doing. Her moves were so calculated and deft, like she had done it before. “Now, _are you a strong man?”_

The king had warned them – the musketeers – that whoever was sent to watch her, whoever was ordered... they had to be careful. She had a tendency to slip past people unnoticed, to work someone up just to get her way.

Aramis was about to answer, in fact, he would've too – far more quickly had her lips not been three inches from his – but the two were so rudely interrupted when the tavern's doors burst open. They slammed into the wooden walls and bounced back from them, the people having shoved them open pressed their hands to the doors to catch them before they hit them. In spite of the position they were in, and the horrible situation that was likely to have them all at gunpoint, Aramis stilled for a moment.

That was, of course, _before_ he shoved the king's cousin off his lap and onto the ground. She gasped loudly, nearly letting out a shriek as she landed. Athos glanced in her direction before watching Aramis slowly rise up and help her stand.

He did keep her behind himself, though.

The two men filling the doorway stepped forward, revealing a few more men in their wake. 

“We heard of a woman here.” The first man said – the one in a dusty gray coat with a green glove on his right hand. “One in the king's company – a cousin, perhaps.”

“Not here.” The man distributing ale stated, his eyes angry. “Now leave, you're disrupting these folk.”

“Am I, good sir?” The man questioned as if everyone else was beneath him. “Ha! You'd think I stormed in here... weapons drawn, ready to fight.”

“I'm warning you.” 

“And I, you.” The man in the coat replied firmly. His men drew swords and guns, ready to claim the building as their own if they didn't get what they wanted. “We have business with her. So, if you've seen here, please – give her up.”

“Aramis-” [Y/N] began, the purr gone. It was replaced by a gentle quake.

“Be quiet.” He muttered, not daring to look over his should in case the men looked his way. A few men stood, willing to take on the ones at the door. They had all seen the musketeers walk in with the woman in the middle of them – D'Artagnan to her right, Aramis to her left, Athos in front of her and Porthos behind her – never had this bar seen such a well-kept protection squad.

Then again, the king had asked for them to guard her – probably the only ones up to the task. 

“Oh, dearest [Y/N] – are you here?”

“Aramis, they're going to hurt me.” She said softly, a hand coming up to press against his shoulder blade. “I can explain later, but please – get me out of here. They're going to-”

“No, they won't.” Aramis assured, his voice much steadier than hers. His moved his shoulder slightly, leaning into her touch for a moment in reassurance.

“I'm Claudius.” The man in the coat stated. “And these are my knights, so to speak.”

Athos stood after seeing Aramis give him a short “come here” motion with his hand remaining at his side. Porthos and D'Artagnan followed suit, standing and placing their hands on the weapon they were going to use.

“This is Balthasar, Gaspar, Alvaro, Lorenzo and Mateo.” He introduced, gesturing to each man. “And they will kill you, if you do not give me her.”

“Then they will kill us.” Porthos said loudly, laughing as he did. “Because she is not here.”

The men started to walk around as Athos and Porthos started talking to them, trying to get them to look the other way so Aramis could sneak [Y/N] out. He had one hand on his sword and the other reaching back to gently take her hand into his own. He backed up slowly, allowing her to move with him.

They likely would have gotten out had he not stepped too quickly and held down her dress with his foot, causing her to stumble as she attempted to walk back and successfully took down a chair. 

The men looked at them, as did Claudius.

“Well, well, well... It seems we have a few liars in this dingy establishment.” Claudius grinned wolfishly, stepping closer as D'Artagnan slowly navigated to be closer to [Y/N].

“Aramis...” [Y/N] said as she stood, yanking her dress from under his foot. 

“Hello, my dear.” Alvaro said, stepping much too close to her for the musketeers mutual liking. “It's time you come back where you really belong.”

Aramis drew his sword, stepping lightly to remain standing between the two. 

“Over my dead body.” He growled, [Y/N]'s hand finding his again as she clutched it tightly. Aramis backed up, remaining on guard as he did. The two were met by D'Artagnan then Porthos and Athos. 

All of Claudius' men followed close, taking two steps for every one that the musketeers took.

Balthasar struck first and Athos held him off.

Mateo went for Porthos.

Lorenzo for D'Artagnan. 

Alvaro and Gaspar for Aramis.

_God help him, Aramis had to get her to the palace._


	2. take her.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sword fighting ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao sorry about any errors im dead tired so im updating QUICK !! hope you enjoy and THANKS for reading!
> 
> p.s ; I'LL FIX ANY ERROR I FIND LATER

Alvaro's sword struck against the cool metal of Aramis', allowing Gaspar to attempt to jab at his stomach before Aramis brought his sword down as he kicked back Alvaro, catching Gaspar's sword in the literal nick of time. 

“Fancy sword-work, good sir.” Gaspar laughed, pulling his weapon back to strike again as Alvaro did the same, Aramis backing up and pushing [Y/N] with him as he aimed to block both swords against the one he wielded. “But not fancy enough!”

Alvaro seized the moment as Gaspar had before to try and catch Aramis in the stomach and failed as Aramis pushed himself back a bit, standing on his toes. D'Artagnan was getting closer as was Porthos and Athos – Aramis already being the closest – causing the four musketeers to create a semi-circle around [Y/N]. 

Mateo and Porthos were angrily sparring, the two a match for each other as Balthasar tried to fight dirty and unfair with Athos and Lorenzo was getting much closer to D'Artagnan than he liked. Gaspar and Alvaro were switching, almost, taking turns at holding off Aramis to keep him busy before the other swiped at him, effectively missing with each large step he took backwards. 

[Y/N] kept her skirts pulled up slightly, the material of them bunched in her hands as she tried to calm her breathing. Claudius let out a laugh as the patrons who offered to fight had either sat down or been knocked down by the commotion caused. 

“We could've avoided this!” He called to the fighting men, waving his singular gloved hand around. “If you had just given her up – let us _take_ her – we all would've been much happier, wouldn't you say, men?”

The musketeers grunted or growled in response, breathing quick and evenly as they sparred with the Spanish men, trying to beat them back long enough to get [Y/N] out the back way. 

“Aramis!” [Y/N] called as there was suddenly an opening where all five Spanish men pulled back there swords, raising them high as they aimed to strike before Mateo was struck by Porthos and Lorenzo by D'Artagnan. Aramis kicked out the legs of both Gaspar and Alvaro, sending them to the ground as he easily cut Alvaro's hands. He dropped his sword, crying out as blood began to spill from the open wound. 

Aramis watched Gaspar stand before the former hit him in the face with the hilt of his weapon, causing his head to turn slightly as Athos knocked Balthasar out of his way with his shoulder, sending him into a table with two men at it who held him back as he struggled to stand back up. Mateo growled and whipped his sword towards Porthos before it was struck from his grip and his legs were kicked out from under him. Aramis hit Gaspar in the face once more as the man came at him. Gaspar slashed at his arm, cutting the leather there and the flesh beneath it. Aramis, in a fit of pure anger and sudden pain, hissed at the sting of the new would before running his opponent through, causing the man to scream and push Aramis backwards before falling himself.

Lorenzo moved his head to glance and watch Gaspar fall, calling out his name. He didn't see his opponent reach for the pitcher on the table nearest him and before he could turn back to face D'Artagnan, the latter man struck him down with a sharp blow to the face.

The contents of the pitcher came spewing out as a tooth flew from Lorenzo's mouth along with some blood, the object shattering against his cheek and within D'Artagnan's hand. As them men moved to regain their ranks, Aramis turned and with his sword still drawn, he ushered [Y/N] out the door. He was quick to get her outside as Mateo, Balthasar and Lorenzo followed suit, Alvaro attempting to grasp his sword in his uninjured hand. 

He dropped it with a growl and grasped his pistol, the item ready to fire since before they arrived. 

“Aramis! Please, just – come with! You all can get me there safer!” [Y/N] cried as Aramis placed his sword under his arm, his wound stinging a little less as he picked her up and had her mount the large horse she'd insisted on taking. It was the same size as theirs, though. However, her voice was desperate now. “Aramis!”

“We will find you again if you don't make it to the palace.” The tall man told her, making sure her feet were placed properly – of course they were – before Alvaro shot just over their heads.

“The next one won't miss!” He shouted and before he could hope to load again, Aramis smacked the horse – _Diablo,_ mind you – and the large black Andalusian took off, his hooves pounding the ground as he let out a heavy snort. 

“Don't die – please, for the love of God!” [Y/N] called back, her voice almost too small over the sound of the swordfighting that was back in motion coupled with her horse and the yells of people both inside and outside the tavern. Aramis was grateful she knew how to ride a horse, that helped him believe she'd make it alright.

“We'll try.” Aramis heard Athos mutter, before he swung at Lorenzo. The group watched Balthasar suddenly step back, rushing towards the alleyway, causing Porthos to call him a coward before he came through a moment later with his body on his horse, chasing after [Y/N]. The musketeers grew more concerned than before, seeing the man rush past their raised weapons. Athos grimaced before striking Lorenzo once more. “D'Artagnan, go after her! Make sure she gets back safely! Try not to let her out of your sight!”

Porthos found this amusing. “She's a hard one to keep track of.” He laughed before body slamming Alvaro, knocking him back into the tavern as the men fought. D'Artagnan, through Athos' orders, mounted his own steed after sheathing his weapon and raced after [Y/N]. 

The four only hoped that D'Artagnan would reach her before Balthasar.


	3. hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I STOPPED WATCHING THE MUSKETEERS FOR A BIT AND SCHOOL GOT HECTIC AND I DIDN'T UPDATE IM SO SORRY OH GOD

By the time D'Artagnan had found the increasing sound of hooves, he saw Balthasar riding up beside [Y/N] with his body raised slightly off his horse. She was tugging the reigns of her horse, driving him towards the opposite direction, pulling him away from the angry Spaniard as best as she possibly could. D'Artagnan rode up, attempting to force his own horse between the two faster moving ones. 

The three were pushing their horses much harder than necessary, causing them to lose pace as Balthasar drew his sword. D'Artagnan scowled and held the reigns of his horse with one hand, drawing his sword with the other. 

“Stop your horse!” He called to [Y/N], his voice loud. “This may get bloody!”

[Y/N] didn't, though. She continued to go, gently petting Diablo's mane as he rushed forward, getting closer to the palace with each hoof on the ground. “I'm not stopping – if you die, which I'm not saying you will, I'll have to fight him or give myself up! I'm pushing my horse too hard as it is, so are you – so is he.”

“Then fall back!” 

“I'm not letting him hurt you because of me!” [Y/N] shouted just as Balthasar went to strike, quickly losing his grip on the reigns of his horse as the force of D'Artagnan's sword connecting with him nearly knocked him off his horse. “You scoundrel, turn back!”

“Until I have you, I cannot go back to Claudius!” Balthasar snapped, his voice angry as he slashed at D'Artagnan once more, thrusting his sword far enough to slice Diablo's shoulder.

The horse let out a loud sound and slowed down, but nonetheless kept pushing on. [Y/N] cried out at this, quickly bringing up a portion of her skirt to press against the wound as D'Artagnan and Balthasar fought. Blood began to quickly seep into the light green fabric. 

Balthasar knew that he had to get D'Artagnan out of the way before he could go for [Y/N] – whether through death or injury, he'd do it. 

He didn't get the chance, however, as he rode headfirst into a low hanging branch.

“Look out!” [Y/N] screamed from behind the two as D'Artagnan ducked but Balthasar's neck was hit and he flew off his horse, tugging the saddle slightly as his feet resisted movement from the stirrups and his hand from the reigns, his sword flying from his hand and onto the ground as the horse came to a stop a few feet from where its rider had been knocked off. The chestnut colored horse simply snorted from the dust cloud gathering around it – mainly due to its quick stop. 

D'Artagnan slowed his horse and turned around, carefully dismounting with his sword still sheathed as he stepped closer to Balthasar.

The dark haired man laying on the ground – not by his choice, as you know – groaned softly as he brought a fist up to slam beside his head. He struggled to stand, merely scratching his feet against the dusty ground before his legs gave way and he remained where he laid.

“You can kill me, if you wish.” Balthasar groaned weakly, his tone displeased as he breathed in dusty air. “Claudius will if I don't come back with her.”

“Then tell me why you would fight for her in such a way – all five of you.” D'Artagnan urged, his sword extended as he saw [Y/N] slowly meet up with the other two horses before her. “Why you would risk causalities for her... I want to know.”

“Just kill me, I can't say a word... especially to a _musketeer.”_ He said it as though it was a dirty word. “Go on, run me through like your friend did Gaspar.”

“I will not.” D'Artagnan replied, sheathing his weapon. “But I will take you to the king, he will decide what to do with you there. Until then, you're going to be quiet.”

Balthasar yelled in pain as D'Artagnan hefted him to his feet, shaking him slightly as he nearly had to drag him to his horse. “I'm going to knock you out now.”

Before the man could yell or even attempt to run, he was hit over the head with D'Artagnan's pistol and once more face first against the ground. The musketeer lifted him quickly, pushing him up and over to lay him across his horse. D'Artagnan took out some rope from his saddle bag and made use of it.

He tied Balthasar's wrists together and then his ankles, using whatever he had left to secure him to his chestnut colored steed. He then glanced to [Y/N], sighing as she pressed her skirt heavily against Diablo's shoulder.

“Is he hurt bad?”

“No, but he is hurt.” She sighed softly, petting her horse in a loving way to ease him even as he fidgeted. “Is it alright if we go slow now? To the palace, I mean.”

D'Artagnan nodded. “I think both you and the horses would appreciate it.”

“We would.” [Y/N] smiled easily but it fell just the same as she tended to her horse, glancing and watching the musketeer mount his own. “Do you think they'll catch up?”

“I stopped hearing shots a little ways back, either from the distance or the end of their fight – I do not know.” D'Artagnan shrugged, tugging the reigns of Balthasar's horse along with his own. “But they will, soon enough.”

[Y/N] said nothing else, she only nodded and they continued slowly along the path.

She hoped they were alright. Regardless, the king would be angry.

**Author's Note:**

> God, why did I write this?? Two things: this first chapter was Odd™ and updates might be slow. I'm having some major writer's block for other stories so this is like my gateway story to put unused ideas into, y'know? Anyway, Aramis is my trash husband and I'm ready to write some Sin™. I hope you enjoyed this, I really do! Feedback is always appreciated -- any form, really!
> 
> Also, if you would like to contact me you can hit me up here or my main tumblr: get-glitched.tumblr.com -OR- trash-husband-aramis.tumblr.com -- whatever you'd like, really!
> 
> More to come soon! (If there are any errors, let me know.)


End file.
